


love is a losing game

by celaenos



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, CARA DESERVES A BETTER HAPPIER LIFE AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO GIVE IT TO HER, Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fic Exchange, One Shot, Slice of Life, most of the rocks fam pops in and out in the background of the fic, spoilers up to ep 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25347913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celaenos/pseuds/celaenos
Summary: The first time that Caramelinda ever sees Lazuli, she is a drenched, awful mess. The trip from Meringue has been long and unforgiving, stalled by a thunderstorm that wreaked havoc on the carriages and Caramelinda’s clothes. Her hair is stuck to her face and neck, her dress is nothing but a muddy disaster, and, all she wants to do is sneak up into the castle and take a bath before having to confront the woman that she is promised to in marriage.Lazuli is waiting for her instead—sitting on the steps of the castle, looking entirely unlike a princess and more like a young scholar.(or, five times lazuli comforts caramelinda, and one time that caramelinda returns the favor).
Relationships: Caramelinda Rocks/Lazuli Rocks
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40
Collections: Dimension 20 Fic Exchange 2020





	love is a losing game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [londer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/londer/gifts).



> hello dear reader!! i hope you enjoy this fic! it... didn't end up being related to most of your prompts, but i hope that it's got bits of tenderness in it that makes you happy. i really tried to pepper them in there for you. i've been aching to write a canon-compliant thing from cara's pov for a while and this idea of little snippets of their life together, and after laz's death really stuck with me and wouldn't let go. there are no on-page/actual happening in the moment deaths, but the canon deaths of lazuli and jet are both referenced and dealt with from cara's pov in different ways. i made sure to go back to tender, first meeting stuff at the very end of the for you, so we're left with something a little more outwardly happy, rather than just hopeful and melancholy. i hope that you enjoy, i had a lot of fun writing this:)

**_i._**

The first time that Caramelinda ever sees Lazuli, she is a drenched, awful mess. The trip from Meringue has been long and unforgiving, stalled by a thunderstorm that wreaked havoc on the carriages and Caramelinda’s clothes. Her hair is stuck to her face and neck, her dress is nothing but a muddy disaster, and, all she wants to do is sneak up into the castle and take a bath before having to confront the woman that she is promised to in marriage.

Lazuli is waiting for her instead—sitting on the steps of the castle, looking entirely unlike a princess and more like a young scholar.

Caramelinda jerks to a stop, trips on her skirts, and nearly does a face plant in the mud. Her maidservant quickly reaches out and catches her, but Cara’s face turns a shade of red that surely can be seen from the tops of the castle’s towers, and she hears Lazuli give off a soft, amused chuckle.

“Fuck,” Caramelinda whispers.

She’s not looking anywhere but at her feet, but later—once she’s _finally_ in a hot bath—her maidservant, Mari, describes the matter-of-fact way that Lazuli had snapped her book shut and rose, walking slowly towards them with a hint of a smile in the corner of her lips. She quickly covers any hint of it once Caramelinda finally manages to force herself to straighten her spine and meet the princess’ eye.

She holds out a hand. “I’m Lazuli. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Caramelinda stares down at the hand that’s hovering in the air between them, unsure of what to do. One of her tutors had stressed that the proper way to greet a princess would be to kiss the back of her hand, but that feels utterly absurd when she looks at the plain clothes and unaffected way that Lazuli is standing there, waiting. Against his advice, Caramelinda takes Lazuli’s hand and shakes it. Behind her, Mari covers her small gasp, but Caramelinda is only looking at Lazuli’s growing smile. Their palms fit together, Cara cannot help but notice.

“It’s nice to meet, you, too,” she says, hating how quiet and tired she sounds.

“Welcome to Castle Candy,” is all that Lazuli offers in response. But there is a deliberate warmth to her tone that fills Caramelinda up and reassures her, nonetheless.

…

…

**_ii._**

Lazuli looks perfectly calm, and Caramelinda _hates_ her for it. Lazuli is regal and beautiful in her simple but elegant wedding dress, while Cara is standing there in the most ridiculous white puff of nonsense that someone has ever crammed her into. She wants to run directly out of the great hall, out of the castle, away from the entire royal family’s prying eyes, and keep on running until she is back home in Meringue.

She shifts uncomfortably again, trying to find a way to sit on her skirts that looks dignified as the bulbian priest drones on and on and on. Across the head table, Sapphria catches her eye and wriggles her eyebrows. Amethar looks almost asleep beside her, half leaning on his friend Calroy Cruller as his mother’s face grows more and more pinched. The entire family is intimidating, but it’s far easier to talk to the younger siblings than Rococoa or the king and queen.

Beside her, Lazuli flips her palm up and slips their hands together, squeezing Caramelinda. She is a woman of few words, Cara has learned during these last few months, but she always finds a way to get her point across. And, at Lazuli’s touch—as she most definitely planned—Cara instantly relaxes. The _marriage_ isn’t the reason that she is nervous and on edge, it’s the idea of having the entirety of Candia suddenly focused on _her._ A duchess from a small house in Meringue who up until the age of twenty-six had never even left its walls, marrying a woman who is revered throughout Candia for her intellect and second in line for the throne. It's more than enough to get Cara fidgeting underneath the people’s roving gaze. 

_Finally,_ Citrina rises and gently shuffles the priest along. She turns to catch Caramelinda’s eye after directing the crowd to eat and dance in celebration and winks. Sapphria and her friends all cheer and rush the dance floor, dragging Amethar and Calroy along. Once the crowd is caught up in celebrating and not as focused on Caramelinda herself, she sinks back into her chair in relief.

“This dress is a monstrosity,” she whispers to Lazuli.

“It is,” she hums, a smirk playing at her lips as she sips her wine. “We’ll get you out of it in due time.”

Caramelinda’s face instantly turns beat red as Lazuli beams. Later, when she sees the commemorative mugs that Queen Pamelia ordered to be made and spread throughout the kingdom, she realizes that the mischievous and delighted smile that she had given Lazuli in return—once she finally caught her breath—was the image that ended up frozen in time and shared throughout the land for all to see. After the initial moment of horror, Caramelinda had burst into laughter. Lazuli was delighted that her mother had unsuspectingly captured a moment that she would have been horrified to know the true contents of. On more than one occasion, she sipped out of it in front of her mother whenever the queen was being particularly difficult, always catching Cara’s eye and raising her eyebrows with a smirk.

After her death, Caramelinda cannot stand to look at the mugs for years. She nearly forgets about them entirely, until Saccharina brings them up in Lazuli’s monastery, smiling and desperate for some sort of familial connection. Caramelinda expects to be further irritated or saddened by the girl’s words, anything but the surprising way that she finds herself smiling simply at the young woman. “Yeah,” she hears herself say, “I liked those,” and finds it to be true.

Saccharina beams and for a _second,_ Caramelinda swears that she sees a hint of Lazuli in her face. She’s even more shocked to discover that this revelation leaves her comforted, instead of bowled over with pain.

…

…

**_iii._**

She never suspects it.

Later, when she agonizes over their last interaction with a meticulous, painful fury, she knows that she should have, but she doesn’t for even a moment. Lazuli _knows_ things that other people never possibly could. This fact becomes apparent the moment that Caramelinda spends a considerable amount of time with her. She’s _brilliant,_ that much is never up for debate. She knows more about the history of Candia than anyone that Caramelinda has ever met, and she knows more about the Old Ways than Caramelinda even knew existed.

She loves listening to Lazuli talk about her studies. She only grasps half of it on a good day, but that’s more than enough. When Lazuli talks, people listen. When she rambles on excitedly about something, people stop what they’re doing entirely.

What Caramelinda remembers is this:

Theobald had been full of jittery, nervous energy the whole morning. Stumbling around, arms full of Lazuli’s scrolls, pausing only to help Cara gather up her own books and looking far younger than she’d ever realized, as the two of them left the castle for Fructera;

Sapphria had screamed when Theobald explained what had happened, a wrenching, horrible noise like someone had reached down her throat and ripped it out of her. Twenty-six years old, newly motherless, a spy drafted to war, and now her unflappable older sister, gone on her own sacrifice to preserve their family’s chances;

Citrina’s knees had buckled and Theo had to run forward to catch her, a prayer and a cry of anguish on her tongue;

Rococoa had gritted her teeth, a silent rage billowing as she tried to hold her tears at bay, looking across the room and catching Caramelinda’s eye;

Amethar sat silently beside her until Rococoa reacted, then he turned, clinging to Sapphria as they both cried. His shoulders brushed against Caramelinda’s, a comfort and an annoyance both as she sat there, silent and shocked, unable to move or process what Theo’s words truly meant. Caramelinda of House Meringue, two years into her marriage and the alliance with the House of Rocks, twenty-eight years old, a widow.

Cara doesn’t cry until hours later when she walks into their chambers and is confronted with the prospect of an empty bed. When she rolls over, something crinkles from underneath her pillow. Cara pulls the paper out and sees her name, written in Lazuli’s hand and her eyes blur with tears as she tries to stumble her way through the explanation.

_I’m so sorry my love, be well, for Candia._

Cara crumbles the letter into her fist and screams, magic erupting from her. Magic from Lazuli herself. The same magic that got her killed. Somewhere, far in the back of her thoughts, Caramelinda swears that she hears Lazuli’s voice in her ear. _I’m sorry my love. My love, my love, my love, I am sorry._ It’s part comfort, partly infuriating, and Cara screams and screams and screams until there is no sound outside of the blood rushing in her ears.

…

…

**_iv._**

The world twists adults into shapes they never thought that they’d be, Caramelinda realizes as Jet and Ruby’s faces go hard.

“Fine,” Jet says. “We’ll just run away from you then!” She grabs Ruby’s hand and they’re off, running down the hall, running away from Caramelinda. Running to Amethar, probably. Caramelinda never once thought that she would grow up to be like her mother, but the way that the twins just looked up at her sent her reeling. Nine years old and they think that they have the entire world figured out. They think that life is a game and Amethar lets them have fun and Caramelinda is suddenly the enemy in their plans to run away and… join a circus? She didn’t get a clear answer from admist the shouting. Her mind had gone blank the minute that she saw Theo carrying Jet and leading a tear-stained Ruby back into the castle after they’d sneaked out of their afternoon lessons. It wasn't the first time, but it was the first time that they managed to get out of the castle walls unseen.

She’d picked up her skirts and _ran,_ saying, “Thank god, I was so worried,” only it came out as, “What in all the hells were the two of you thinking?” and the girls had both looked up at her, betrayal all over their faces. Jet had started her newfound rant about growing up to be just like Rococoa and Ruby had chimed in, declaring that she’d grow up and learn magic just like Lazuli and then they’d get to do whatever they wanted, all the time, and _no one,_ not even Caramelinda, could stop them.

She’s not proud of the way that her heart stalled, there. Or of the way that she’d gone hard in response, protective and reactionary and full of fear as she made it clear that they would _never_ learn magic and they would grow up to _do their duties_ as the princesses of Candia. She’d ended that particular rant about how lucky they were to live in a castle with a family that loves them and guards who keep them safe and how there were hundreds of children across Candia who had nothing even close to that.

All in all, not her finest moment as a parent.

She stands there in the cold hallway and breathes in, wet and heavy from the tears that she doesn’t want to fall. Theo tries to mumble something about _just being children,_ and _they don’t mean it, they love you,_ but Caramelinda dismisses him with nothing but a hand wave—something that she tries never to do with the servants. She _tries_ to treat them as people, _tries_ to instill that in the girls, but… with Theo, sometimes, it’s harder. The soft, affectionate, and awkward way that he’s trying to comfort her now is awful and she can’t stand for either of them to stumble their way through it anymore.

Unlike her daughters, he doesn’t take any offense. He simply nods and goes off to tend to the girls, leavening Cara standing there, alone.

She wonders—not for the first time—what raising the girls would have been like with Lazuli, instead of Amethar. She wonders if she would be so strict with them, without the fear of losing everything and everyone she loves hanging over her head all the time. She wonders, how much easier it would be if Amethar was nothing more than the fun-loving uncle. If it would nettle so much that he won’t back her up, will let them get away with everything, will let them talk to her like their words don’t matter to anyone but themselves. The two of them had been so much closer with regards to the girls when they were small, Caramelinda misses it.

Her friendship with Amethar and their shared joy at the twin’s birth had been her one comfort in losing Lazuli, and now that’s all but gone, too.

 _He’s trying,_ a voice in her head says. She doesn’t know if it’s her own, or Lazuli’s. She argues against it anyway.

_He could try harder._

_Yes._ The voice responds, and this time, it doesn’t sound at all like her own. Cara doesn’t know if that’s a sign that she is beginning to go mad, or if Lazuli is truly powerful enough to reach her from beyond the grave. Every other time in the last fourteen years since Lazuli’s death that Cara swears, she hears her voice, it’s always at a time when she’s half asleep, half inebriated, half something. _He could,_ the voice echoes. _He should._ A single beat later, Caramelinda is slowly walking down the hall, wondering if the voice grows or wans as she moves. It is unchanged when Lazuli adds softly, _He will._

Caramelinda hangs onto that promise. Lazuli always did know things that other people never could.

…

…

**_v._**

Caramelinda cannot breathe. Ruby stands there, small and shaking and shell-shocked as she looks up at her mother and says in a wobbly voice, _Jet’s dead,_ and Caramelinda’s whole world stops.

They don’t have _time_ is the thing. Theo sort of grabs her and hauls her along, the five of them running into the night, finding Cumulous and trying to stealth their way out of the castle. Ruby is hurt. Amethar looks on death’s door, and Liam is shell-shocked and covered in what Caramelinda realizes is Jet’s blood. She stops dead in the middle of the field and retches.

Adrenaline and fear are the only things keeping her going as she runs with the remains of her family towards the sea. Amethar’s heavy, pained panting mixes with her own and she cannot meet his eye, or the grief that she finds there will break her entirely. When they finally make it to the boat, Jet looks so small cradled in Amethar’s arms, that Caramelinda has to bite down on the inside of her cheek until it’s a bloody mess to stop herself from jumping into the water.

Ruby’s grief turns into anger and it spills out of her at anyone who dares get to close. Most of it comes Caramelinda’s way and she doesn’t even try to argue against it, because _her daughter is dead._ Her daughter likely died hating her. Or, thinking the reverse—Caramelinda doesn’t know which notion is worse. People leave, bit by bit, and then all at once; Caramelinda thinks that she needs to have that reminder branded into every chamber of her heart, because she always forgets until it's happening all over again.

When Amethar pulls her in for a hug and promises to do better Caramelinda thinks: _this? Is this what you meant, Lazuli? How couldn’t you tell me it was **this?**_

There’s no response.

Not until days later. Not until a young woman smiles at them from across a makeshift great hall in the middle of the mountains and calls herself the lawful queen of Candia. Not until Caramelinda sees the twinkle in her eye that reminds her of Lazuli, sees the way that Amethar blanches in recognition. Not until Ruby begins to direct nearly all of her anger towards her newfound sister. Not until Caramelinda is alone in a room with nothing but her thoughts, safe and quiet for the time being, all her political problems seemingly about to be banished, dealing with an absence so loud that she cannot speak.

_I’m so sorry my love. I’ve got her, I promise._

“How could you let this happen?” Caramelinda gasps aloud, her voice in pieces, leaking everywhere. 

When the answer comes, it’s unsatisfying.

_I tried. I tried to get Saccharina there sooner. I’m so sorry my love._

_My love, my love, my love._ It rings around inside of Caramelinda’s skull as she pours over Lazuli’s notebooks throughout the night; as she looks into Saccharina’s eyes after Ruby makes a particularly cutting remark and finds a kind of quiet understanding, there; as she shivers in the ice dome that Saccharina pulled up around her, arms aching, body screaming as she holds onto the spell, refusing to allow anything to happen to her other daughter, not if she can do something about it.

 _That was brilliant, my love,_ Lazuli says, when Caramelinda drops with exhaustion in the halls of the monastery that her wife built to preserve Candia's magic, something resembling hope filling her family’s eyes.

 _Couldn’t have done it without you,_ she thinks.

…

…

+1

The first time that Caramelinda kisses Lazuli, it’s an accident.

She’s only been at Castle Candy for a few weeks and the sheer volume of the place is still overwhelming. The Rocks family is… so much a _family_ that Caramelinda doesn’t know how to react. Her own parents were always far more formal, but the Rocks—most of whom are all older than Caramelinda herself—still run rampant throughout the place. Sapphria can charm anyone in a matter of seconds; Citrina is the kindest, easily lovable person that Caramelinda has ever encountered, and Amethar is amiable and bright and brash in a way that is fun, rather than annoying—most of the time. Rococoa is the only one—other than Lazuli herself—who Cara truly finds intimidating. Through no real fault of her own, she is immediately warm but she is also the tallest and strongest woman that Caramelinda has ever seen. She exudes wisdom and strength in ways that Caramelinda doesn’t think she could ever manage.

It’s Lazuli, her wife to be, that Caramelinda doesn’t know how to act around. Lazuli always seems so self-assured, to have a plan, nothing ruffles her.

Until it does.

Caramelinda walks into her study and finds Lazuli pacing back and forth, an anxious twinge to her brow that Cara has never seen before. For the first time, she can imagine truly being married to this woman. It’s instantly humanizing.

Cara walks over and holds out a hand and Lazuli jumps at her touch. “Sorry,” she says, and tries to stop pacing.

Cara takes a deep breath, holds onto Lazuli’s hands, and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t… I only saw a little,” she says, clearly frustrated. “I can’t figure it out.”

Sapphria had warned Cara about this, about the way that Lazuli can sometimes just _see_ things. Know them, in a way that no one else can. Things that later turn out to come true, or that they find out already happened hundreds of years ago. Visions, of a sort. Cara wonders if Lazuli saw her before they met. She’s too nervous to ask.

(She never does get the chance, but she suspects that she did).

“What did you see?”

Lazuli shakes her head. “Three girls. Young women, perhaps. I couldn’t tell.”

“Your sisters?”

“No,” Lazuli is adamant, then, pauses. “I don’t think so. But I think they were, _sisters._ Just not mine.” She frowns deeper and begins to unconsciously rub circles around Cara’s palms. Cara suppresses a smile at the touch. “They belonged to me somehow, though. That I’m sure about. They’re Rocks women, and they’re important. I just don’t know how—” the furrow of her brow cuts so deep and she grips Cara’s hands tightly and Cara suddenly feels a rush of affection that surprises her with its strength. So, she leans in and acts on it, pressing their lips together softly.

Lazuli blinks in surprise and pulls back and Caramelinda almost runs out of the room in embarrassment, but then Lazuli _beams._

“That’s one way to get me to calm down,” she says with a smirk. “My siblings never tried that one.”

“Thank the gods,” Caramelinda laughs.

“Indeed,” Lazuli drawls, eyes dropping back down to Caramelinda’s lips. “I have to say,” she adds, a teasing lilt to her voice that Caramelinda has never encountered before, but hopes to hear far more often, “I think I’m still feeling a little anxious. Perhaps you could help me out again?”

Caramelinda grins and reaches up to cup the back of Lazuli’s neck, pulling her down and kissing her for all she’s worth. Neither of them stops smiling for the rest of the day.


End file.
